


Well, You Didn't Have to Break In.

by Quinny_555



Series: Carry On My Prodigal Son [8]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), Supernatural
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Castiel is confused, Crowley Being Crowley (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Powers, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sassy Malcolm Bright, Worried Sam Winchester, but only for a little while, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/pseuds/Quinny_555
Summary: “Who are you, exactly?” Malcolm asked.“Ah, my apologies. I usually skip the pleasantries when the person I’m talking to is in chains. The name’s Crowley,” he said and held out a hand. Malcolm didn't even bother to try and shake it.OrIn which Malcolm meets Crowley.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Sam Winchester
Series: Carry On My Prodigal Son [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636342
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	1. Whoever Said 'Just be yourself' Has Clearly Never Met Crowley

Malcolm’s eyes snapped open and he remained still. He had woken up for a reason, and it was not a nightmare. Sunshine was chirping in distress, her cage rattling. He sat up and turned to see what the problem was, but paused when he saw the shadow of a man standing in the middle of his loft. His eyes widened and he tried to remove his restraints. The problem was that he couldn't. 

“What the fuck,” he growled into his mouthguard. He spit it out and it landed on the floor with a thud. He continued to tug at the quick release hinges, but they seemed to be jammed. The man began walking toward him and Malcolm panicked. The man wasn't particularly imposing in stature, but that didn't settle Malcolm’s nerves at all. “Stay the fuck away from me.” 

“There’s no need to be nasty,” the man said. He had a deep voice and a British accent, a lilt that may have been soothing under different circumstances. 

“Yeah? Sorry if I'm not exactly enthused about you breaking into my house,” Malcolm hissed as he scooted as far as his restraints allowed. Once the man was close enough Malcolm could see his face. Him letting Malcolm see his face was bad news. There was a reason criminals wore masks. 

“I suppose you're right,” he said with a chuckle. “Though I didn't actually ‘break’ in.” Malcolm was going to ask what exactly he meant by that when his phone rang. Both he and the man looked at it for a moment. The man walked to where his phone was and picked it up. He smiled as he read the contact that lit up the screen. To Malcolm’s surprise, he answered it. 

“Hello, Moose,” he said pleasantly. Malcolm could hear Sam’s voice on the other end of the line from where he was. “I was surprised when I learned who your latest partner was. He’s not exactly your type.” he glanced in Malcolm’s direction with a sly smile. Malcolm repressed a shudder. “Yes, I know, you'll kill me. I thought we were passed the threats, really.” another pause. “That’s funny, actually. I'm only here looking for you, after all. If I were to do something it would be on you.” Oh, that was the last straw. 

“It’s not your fault, Sam!” Malcolm yelled, hoping that Sam would hear him. Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“That’s sweet, really. But nothing will happen if you tell me where you are. Or, god forbid, answer my calls.” Another pause. “Of course, Moose, what do you take me for? This whole thing was only a last resort, after all.” He actually sounded affronted. Sam said something else and hung up. 

“Who are you, exactly?” Malcolm asked. 

“Ah, my apologies. I usually skip the pleasantries when the person I’m talking to is in chains. The name’s Crowley,” he said and held out a hand. Malcolm didn't even bother to try and shake it. 

“Right. Why can't I get these off?” he raised his wrists. He figured by now that this had something to do with Sam’s… work. Which meant that Crowley was almost definitely not human. 

“I figured that you might react adversely to my presence,” he said by way of explanation. Malcolm raised his eyebrows. 

“And why are they still locked?” Crowley shot him a devilish smile. 

“I have a feeling that you know the answer to that,” he said. Malcolm scowled at him. There was the sound of wings flapping and suddenly Sam and Cas were standing in his living room. Sam was on him in an instant. 

“Are you okay?” he asked as soon as he reached Malcolm’s side, tugging at the restraints. “Why can't I get these off?” 

“He’s fine, and I'm sure you can figure it out,” Crowley said before Malcolm could answer. “Why have I been hearing about you around hell?” 

“I don't know, Crowley, why don't you ask your… informants?” Sam snapped. 

“Because they don't bloody know anything!” Crowley shouted and Malcolm’s tv flickered. “You think I like talking to you?” 

“I'm glad the feeling is mutual,” 

“What have you been hearing?” Cas asked. Malcolm had forgotten he was even there. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” was Crowley’s childish response. 

“Y-yes?” Cas said, clearly confused. Crowley sighed heavily. 

“Your powers are returning,” Crowley said to Sam. Malcolm felt him tense as he stood straighter. 

“I'm not after your crown,” was Sam’s only response. 

“You think I don't know that?” Crowley snarked. “My demons, however, don't.” 

“What exactly do you want me to do about it?” Sam asked. 

“Keep it quiet. I don't need any of the sheep-minded fools thinking there are alternatives.” 

“Fine,” Sam said. “Now let him go.” He gestured to Malcolm. Crowley snapped his fingers and the release hinges snapped open. Malcolm quickly pulled them off, relieved to finally be free. 

“It was nice meeting you, Malcolm,” Crowley said and winked at the shorter man, whose face warmed as he realized that he had been half-naked during this whole encounter. Malcolm was sure that Sam would have killed him right then and there if he had not vanished. 

“So,” Malcolm said. “Powers?” 


	2. Rude Brothers and Psychic Boyfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean can be an asshole; that's old news. Sam is psychic. For Malcolm, this is new information.

Dean paced around Malcolm’s loft, scowl firmly in place. 

“I mean, what the hell, Sam!” He turned to his brother. “I thought we were done with this whole…” he gestured. “Weird powers shit.” 

“It’s not like I'm doing it on purpose, Dean,” Sam muttered. Malcolm frowned. This sounded like something they had gone over before. 

“Aren't you?” The question sounded accusing. Sam stood from the couch, disbelief written on his face. 

“Are you kidding me?” Sam demanded. “You know that’s not what’s happening.” 

“Well, do you blame me for wondering?” His tone was defensive. Sam looked like he had been smacked. Malcolm was pretty sure he knew what was happening here. He didn't like it. 

“Wow,” was the only response Sam could formulate. Dean bristled. 

“Hey, I didn't know last time until it was too late and you already popped Luci-” Malcolm had heard enough. 

“Stop.” He cut Dean off before he could finish that sentence. Both brothers turned to look at him. He was sure that they had forgotten he was there. Dean opened his mouth to say something else and Malcolm shook his head. “You're frustrated. I get it, sort of. But that doesn't mean that you get to go around being a dick.” 

“I wasn't-” 

“But you were. You knew that what you said was going to hurt him and you didn't care. We aren't continuing this conversation until you both calm down and actually  _ think  _ about what you're saying.” Dean huffed. 

“I'm going for a drive,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket. Malcolm’s shoulders relaxed slightly when he heard his front door shut. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Mal,” Sam said quietly. “He’s not saying anything that’s not true.” Malcolm grit his teeth. 

“That doesn't give him any right to use your past mistakes against you. You thought you were doing the right thing.” Sam looked away. 

“But I  _ did _ make that mistake,” he said. “This is just one of the consequences.” Malcolm gaped. 

“Sam, you  _ made a mistake _ . You learned from it. Not to mention that you fixed it despite what it cost you.” Malcolm shook his head. “Don't tell me that you think you deserve him bringing it back up.” Sam still wouldn't make eye contact and Malcolm sighed. “You have more than paid your dues, Sam. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Sam said with a nod. He looked at Malcolm and smiled. Malcolm suspected that he only agreed to appease him, but let it go. Malcolm thought about calling Dean before deciding that he didn't want to see him for a while. 

“Smoothie?” He asked as he moved toward the kitchen. Sam followed, sitting at one of the chairs at the breakfast bar. 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Sam said, offering a smile. Malcolm returned it and got started. He pulled a bag of mixed berries from the freezer and set them on the counter before moving to grab bananas. He checked the place he usually left his blender and frowned. It wasn't there; one of his mother’s staff must have moved it. He stood and began looking for it. 

He opened the cupboard above the microwave and was a little peeved to find it there along with several other pots and pans. He reached up, standing on his toes. It was just  _ barely  _ in his reach and he felt his fingers brush against the cord. He tugged, and- 

“Mal, I could- shit!” Sam shouted, throwing his hand out as half of the pots and pans in the cupboard fell  _ right at Malcolm. _

Malcolm flinched, arms coming up to protect his head when he felt everything give. There was a cacophony of metal crashing together before it abruptly stopped. They didn't hit Malcolm, and he didn't hear them hit the floor. He slowly looked up to see them just… hovering above him. He stumbled out of the way and turned to face Sam. His boyfriend had his hand outstretched toward the post and pans, staring intensely. 

Sam registered that Malcolm was out of the way and let them drop. Both men flinched at the sound of them hitting the floor. Sam’s attention immediately snapped to Malcolm. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, rushing around the breakfast bar. Malcolm nodded absently. 

“Um. Yeah.” He looked up at Sam as he gently grabbed his shoulders. “So that’s, um, those are the powers Crowley was talking about.” It wasn't a question. Sam nodded. 

“Do you want me to- I mean, do you want me to go?” he asked and started to withdraw his hands. Malcolm quickly grabbed Sam’s hands, keeping them in place. 

“No!” he said. “No, sorry, just… thank you.” He leaned his head on Sam’s chest. He felt Sam relax and wrap his arms around Malcolm. They stayed like that long enough for Dean to walk in, blinking at the scene in front of him. 

“What happened?” Dean asked, bewildered. Sam and Malcolm separated. 

“I almost gave myself a concussion,” Malcolm muttered. Dean snorted. 

“What else is new?” He set down a to-go tray containing two smoothies and a black coffee. A clear pace offering. 

“Thanks,” Sam said, flashing a brief smile at his brother. Dean grunted and picked up his coffee, which seemed to signal the end of that interaction. Malcolm would have preferred a verbal apology, but… Sam seemed happy, and that was really all that mattered to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where did Cas go, you might ask? Well you see, I forgot to write him into the first draft, so let's just say he left bc I'm lazy, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> SO I have this headcanon that Sam is a natural born psychic and that the blood either pushed aside his natural powers or amplified what was already there.


End file.
